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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28685904">Bedtime Story</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylph_of_Breath/pseuds/Sylph_of_Breath'>Sylph_of_Breath</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Take my hand, wreck my plans [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate postcanon timeline, Anxiety, Dirkjake Week 2021, M/M, Marriage, Parentstuck, Post-Canon adjacent (sort of), Reference to blood/violence/death, Slice of Life, dirkjake - Freeform, reference to childhood trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:02:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,111</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28685904</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylph_of_Breath/pseuds/Sylph_of_Breath</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"I don’t think there’s any reason she needs to hear about all that grotesque tomfoolery of our youth, and I don’t think it’s good for her."</p><p>“Jake, she deserves to know who her parents are, and what it took for us to be here with her now. That, all of that, is part of her story and always will be, whether she lived it herself or not."</p><p> </p><p>When is the right time to tell your child about how you grew up all alone? Or how you created the universe you're living in? Or how many times you died in the process? Dirk and Jake disagree on the answer, and their discussion on the matter takes an unexpected turn, and yields unexpected consequences.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jake English/Dirk Strider</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Take my hand, wreck my plans [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2141649</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>DirkJake Big Bang 2k21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Bedtime Story</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28722852">Illustration by AnxiousAdvent</a>
</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jake stands alone in his kitchen, finishing up the dishes from dinner. He glances at the oven clock and sees that it’s 9:31, nearly time that Dirk should, hopefully, be wrapping up his bedtime story and tucking their daughter in to sleep. But Dirk has a tendency to get a bit wordy with his stories and lose track of time. He also has a tendency to not take things like bedtimes terribly seriously. Even so, tonight is his turn to do the story and Jake’s turn to do the dishes, and likely, Lydia’s turn to stay up a few extra minutes with her <em>cool</em> dad. So Jake waits until 9:38 to see if his husband will finish on schedule and join him back downstairs, but when he has not, he dries his hands and heads up to give a gentle nudge. It wouldn’t be the first time. He makes it about halfway up the stairs when he begins to overhear their conversation.</p><p>"… so then I put my head in the sendificator and sent it to your father."</p><p>"You sent just your head? But… how did you survive without your head?"</p><p>"Well, I didn’t obviously, I died, but if you would just pipe down and listen, I will get to that.”</p><p>Oh no. It becomes clear to Jake that the situation is going to call for more than a gentle nudge. This is going to require some damage control. He takes a brief pause to steel himself for the imminent putting down of his foot and the fallout that will follow, then continues up at a slightly quicker pace.</p><p>“As I was saying, I sent my head to Jake, and Uncle Hal had to talk him into kissing me, which was not exactly an easy task. You see, by that point, he was already hopelessly in love with me, but was just too repressed…"</p><p>Jake shoves open the already ajar door and bursts in.</p><p>“Heyyyy there, Sport! It’s after 9:30! Time for you to get cracking on those forty winks! I’m just gonna wrangle up your old daddy-o here and we'll let you get right to it!”</p><p>He sets out across the bedroom floor, artfully tiptoeing around the scattered array of robot parts, horse figurines, cap guns, and an eclectic, almost indiscriminate variety of other toys and supplies, the likes of which either may or may very well not be expected to hold the interest of the average kindergartener. Needless to say, Lydia English-Strider is not an average kindergartener.</p><p>“But <em>Papaaaaaa!</em> Daddy was right in the middle of the <em>storyyyyyyy!</em>”</p><p>“Yeah Papa, come on, I was right in the middle of the story.”</p><p>He reaches Dirk, seated on the side of the bed, and puts his hand on his shoulder, gripping just a little too tightly.</p><p>“Oh, well, I think maybe we can finish this story another time, don’t you think, Daddy?”</p><p>Jake’s grip tightens even more, making it very clear to Dirk that he will not be finishing his story tonight.</p><p>“Yeah, OK, well, it’ll be more exciting after some time to build the suspense anyway. Go to sleep, kid.”</p><p>Lydia huffs theatrically, but then Dirk ruffles her hair and she can’t help but begrudgingly crack a smile.</p><p>“Sleep tight, princess!”</p><p>Jake steps over and plants a cartoonishly loud kiss on her cheek. She looks up at Dirk and rolls her eyes. He smirks back at her in response.</p><p>As soon as the door latches behind him, Jake turns to his husband and says, with a carefully crafted facade of calm, “Dirk, dear, may I speak to you downstairs please?”</p><p>*******</p><p>Moments later, following an awkwardly silent trip down the stairs, the two of them are back in their kitchen. Jake has already assumed his best serious discussion position, sidled up against the kitchen island, standing firm, confident, assertive, yet comfortable and non-threatening- very intentional, as he’s practiced many times before.</p><p>“Dirk, I would like to discuss this bedtime story you were telling our daughter."</p><p>“Yes, I thought you might."</p><p>Dirk grabs himself a can of orange soda from the fridge, and a beer for Jake, which he pops open and hands off before very casually taking his place opposite.</p><p>"I feel that…"</p><p>"Ah, I see we're already breaking out the 'I feel' statements, it's going to be one of those conversations then…"</p><p>"<em>I feel</em> that the tales of our old hijinks in the annals of SBurban legend, thrilling as they may be, are not appropriate bedtime stories for a five-year-old."</p><p>Dirk pops the tab on his soda can, somehow intentionally louder than necessary. He makes Jake wait while he takes a long, drawn-out sip, testing to see if he can create enough discomfort to break him out of his whole <em>healthy communication therapy</em> schtick that he’s latched onto the past few years. Jake shifts his weight slightly, takes a few sips of beer, and briefly breaks eye contact a few times, but he does not budge. So Dirk changes tactics instead to try to beat his beloved husband at his own game.</p><p>"And <em>I</em> feel that you are vastly underestimating your daughter, and also being a total fucking buzzkill."</p><p>"And <em>I</em> feel that I would like for you to take this seriously and listen to what I have to say!"</p><p>Dirk sets down his can and exhales just audibly.</p><p>“Jake, they’re just stories. Words. They can’t hurt her. All of those things, and a fuck of a lot worse, actually happened to me as a kid, and hey, I turned out just fine.”</p><p>Jake sighs and sets down his own drink. He softens his expression in an attempt to convey sympathy and tenderness. Dirk reads it as mild condescension at best, and pity at worst, but holds his own stoic expression firm. Jake takes a step towards Dirk and takes his hands, which Dirk begrudgingly allows, playing along if only out of curiosity as to where he's going with this.</p><p>“Dirk, darling, love of my life, apple of my eye, Prince of my Heart…”</p><p>“Jake, you know I hate that.”</p><p>“… and you know I don’t care. Understand that what I'm about to say, I say with the absolute utmost love and affection- but you sure as all everloving fuck did not <em>turn out just fine.</em>”</p><p>Dirk blinks in a display of genuine surprise and displeasure at Jake's frankness, thankfully hidden behind his shades. But he only lets a few seconds pass before steering the conversation back around to retake control.</p><p>“Ah, all right then, thank you for letting me know after eight years of marriage, I guess I’ll just go pack a few things…”</p><p>He feigns an escape, but Jake tugs him right back in.</p><p>“Oh, can it, wisenheimer! You know exactly what I mean! Not a one of us turned out fine! There was no way in Albuquerque any of us were ever going to <em>turn out fine!</em> Nothing about the first couple decades of any of our lives was <em>fine!</em>”</p><p>"Yeah, like when we met and fell in love…" Dirk mumbles. He's looking slightly away now, holding in an uncomfortable squirm behind absolute stillness.</p><p>"<em>Except</em> when we met and fell in love, smart-ass, please stop deflecting! And meeting Jane, and Roxy, and Callie, and the kids, and the trolls. And it is only <em>together</em>, you and me, and our <em>family</em>, after many more years of actual stability, and a heaping metric fuckton of therapy, that we are now just about holding on to <em>fine</em> by the skin of our fucking chiclets!"</p><p>Jake hears how loud he’s gotten, so he takes a moment to calm himself. He releases Dirk’s hands and sets his own on his hips in fists. He breathes.</p><p>“But that little rugrat of ours, despite all of our horseshit and tommyrot, has a pretty decent chance of actually turning out fine. She has two loving, <em>living</em> parents, and aunts and uncles and cousins, and a normal house, with neighbors, and a real school with honest to Pete real live friends! And in the very same century and continent to boot! Yes sir, we’ve somehow managed to get things pretty nicely set up for her, so now if we can only just somehow manage to continue to not bungle it up entirely for another thirteen or so years, if we can spare her from the trauma <em>we</em> all went through, barring any future apocalypses that may befall our own cozy little universe here, there’s no reason she can’t actually just <em>turn out fine</em>. She can have what we didn’t get to have, Dirk, she can just be an ordinary kid! Isn’t that all we could hope for her, after all?”</p><p>It’s a sound argument, and Dirk senses himself losing some ground. So after some lightning-fast re-strategizing, he switches gears again to get the advantage back. He retakes Jake’s hands and puts on his best impression of a sweet smile.</p><p>“Jake, darling, shnookums, angelcakes…”</p><p>“All right, come on now…”</p><p>“… you know as well as I do, that <em>our</em> child was never going to be <em>ordinary</em>.”</p><p>It certainly doesn’t hurt that Dirk, of course, fully believes that statement himself, even if he’s not one to get all sentimental about it. And as expected, playing into Jake’s own sentimentality works exactly according to plan. Jake lets out a quiet chuckle, and noticeably relaxes.</p><p>“No, no, of course not. That's not what I meant. I know that she is extraordinary. I mean, Christ on a fucking cracker, Dirk, she's <em>you!</em> And believe you me, I've never been prouder or more petrified of anything in my life! But, all right, fine, maybe ordinary wasn’t the optimal word choice there. I suppose what we really want for her is just to be...<em>happy</em>. And just because she’s special, doesn’t mean she can’t be happy, at least for as long as we have any say in the matter, anyway. She’ll never have to fend for herself in the middle of the ocean, or hide from giant murderous beasts and sparing androids, or… get tricked into sharing her first kiss with the bleeding head of the person she loves most by a particularly meddlesome pair of gosh darn sunglasses…”</p><p>He struggles through the last part, then takes a second to close his eyes and recenter himself.</p><p>“So what’s the point of stuffing her cute little noggin chock full of such horrors and atrocities, all before she even knows her times tables?"</p><p>"She knows her times tables up to twelve..."</p><p>"Not the point!"</p><p>Dirk breaks free again and grabs his soda. Intentional or, more likely, not, Jake giving specific examples of how Dirk's teenage shenanigans so memorably hurt him is what finally strikes a nerve. He doesn't want to play anymore.</p><p>”I know it’s not the point. The point is that you think I’m a bad parent and if you don’t reign me in I’m going to ruin our daughter forever. Just like I ruined you. I got it.”</p><p>He takes a sip.</p><p>“Dirk, please! Would I have married you if I felt like you <em>ruined</em> me? The answer is no, by the way, before you start getting any ideas. And we’ve talked about this! We have to be able to be honest with each other without getting defensive, especially when it comes to Lydia! You know full well that I consider you to be a bonafide blue-ribbon parent! Absolute top of the line, a true paragon of fatherhood! I mean, Jesus, Mary and motherfucking Joseph, Dirk, even I’m not too dense to see you’re so clearly her favorite…”</p><p>“I’m sorry, what was that about getting defensive?”</p><p>Jake's words catch in his throat as he's hit with the all too familiar stomach-sinking, panicked shame of being confronted with his own flaws. He lets it sit for a moment, resisting his insidious flight or freeze instincts, before fighting through.</p><p>“You’re right, I’m sorry. This isn’t about that. Well, pish, to be quite frank, maybe it is, just a smidge. I admit it, I get jealous, but that’s my can of worms to unravel, and I’m working on it, I am. But aside from all that malarkey, even knowing that you are a paramount father who deserves all the love and adoration that little squirt can muster up, I’ve stated my concerns and I stand by them. I don’t think there’s any reason she needs to hear about all that grotesque tomfoolery of our youth, and I don’t think it’s good for her. That’s all.”</p><p>He punctuates the statement with a slight bob of his head and a renewed firm-up of his posture, indicating that he has concluded what he, for now, considers to be a closing argument of sorts. He looks at Dirk expectantly for a response, hoping that he’s done enough to earn a satisfactory one.</p><p>“Jake, she deserves to know who her parents are, and what it took for us to be here with her now. That, all of that, is part of her story and always will be, whether she lived it herself or not. Whether we want it to be or not. And if we don’t tell her, she’s just going to figure it out sooner or later, she’s way too smart not to. Someone at school will say something, or she’ll find it online, or in a book, or probably just trick Roxy into spilling something, and she’s going to know that her fathers didn't trust her enough with the truth.”</p><p>Jake looks down, feeling the creeping presence of old insecurities starting to close in. He’s trying his absolute best to stand his ground on this, it’s too important not to. But what it comes down to, as it often does, is that he's not the smart one in this marriage, and he never will be. And most of the time, that’s just fine with him. But every so often he will <em>feel</em> something strongly enough that he can't just let it go, and the struggle to hold his trust in those feelings, articulate them into something logical, and then match that logic to Dirk’s, is as exhausting as it is inevitably futile.</p><p>“I know, but...”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>His eyes finally become wet. Fuck it, logic is out, might as well just let himself have his feelings before this is all over, if only for his own sake.</p><p>"It just feels like it was yesterday we had her all swaddled and coddled in our arms, Dirk, and now look at her! Suddenly she’s not a baby anymore, and for the fucking life of me, I have no idea when or how that happened. She’s already growing up too fast, and I’m trying, I’m <em>really trying</em>, with all my might, every single fucking day, to stop myself from holding her back. But, well… do we really have to push?”</p><p>Dirk places a hand on Jake’s cheek, wiping his eye with his thumb. It’s a genuine gesture, which Jake recognizes and greatly appreciates. He closes his eyes and leans into Dirk’s hand, soaking up every much-needed bit of comfort from it that he can.</p><p>"That wasn't yesterday, Jake, that was five years ago. Five years passed, whether we wanted them to or not, and that is how and why she grew up. That’s how it works. So no, she’s not a baby anymore, she’s a brilliant, curious, brave, child- <em>person</em>. And she’s tough. I wouldn’t be telling her anything I didn’t think she could handle. OK?”</p><p>Dirk gently pats then releases Jake’s cheek, giving him the tiniest of smiles- signifying the end of his own closing argument. There’s a silence as Jake searches half-heartedly for one more rebuttal, which he doesn’t find. Even with all the years, and all the self-reflection, and all the therapy, the temptation to shrink himself down, shut himself up, defer to Dirk on anything and everything without a moment’s thought to the contrary, always lingers in the back of Jake's mind. It calls to him like his old childhood sleeping bag, warm and inviting and comfortable and safe and easy. He knows it's a trap, that it doesn’t serve either of them, that it just leads to resentment and mistrust, that it’s not even what Dirk wants, and he's gotten so much better at resisting it. But he's tired. He climbs in.</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>Another silence, longer this time, while Jake thinks again about what he still wants to say, and then longer still as he builds up the courage to say it. It’s something he’s been feeling, but not saying, for a very long time, and the silence and tension and honesty of the moment have pushed it back to the forefront of his mind. Part of him hopes that if he stays quiet long enough maybe Dirk will cut him off, but Dirk knows him too well for that. Dirk knows exactly what it looks like when Jake is trying to speak, and knows that he wouldn’t be trying so hard if it wasn’t important, so he offers a small, encouraging smile, and just patiently waits. So Jake speaks.</p><p>“I know you... miss it. I know I was the one who always put on the old rambunctious go-getter adventure lad song and dance, but it’s just that I didn’t know what I wanted back then, and I didn’t know how else to find it. But <em>this</em> is it for me, Dirk, this is all I need, really, for the rest of my life! Just you, and Lydia, and our simple little bungalow of love here, and truly I’m happier than a clam in the sand on a Saturday! But <em>you</em>- you are the one that was meant for true greatness, some kind of, oh... real hero of the universe ultimate grand destiny shit! And... sometimes I feel like I’ve trapped you here in this humdrum, normal, little family life instead, because, well, because I just wasn’t strong enough to let you go. And, fucking bejabbers, Dirk, even after everything I made you give up, now I’m trying to tell you you can’t even <em>talk</em> about your old glory days…”</p><p>Dirk suddenly steps back. For a moment, he just stares at his husband incredulously. Jake is just as stunned by Dirk’s reaction as Dirk is to Jake’s statement. It’s so rare for Jake to get any kind of visible reaction from Dirk, especially one that can be seen from behind the protection of his shades, so when he does, it means he’s either done something exceptionally wonderful, or he’s royally fucked up. He doesn’t understand exactly how, but it's clear that in this case, it’s the latter. Whatever it was, he now wishes more than anything that he could just take it all back and tuck it back away where it can’t hurt anyone but himself, but he can’t, it’s too late. So they just stand there and stare at each other, shocked and hurt and remorseful and afraid, until finally, Dirk finds his voice.</p><p>“You… think I <em>miss it?</em> You really think those were <em>glory days?</em> Jake… don’t you know by now that the only thing I gave up to be with you was pain?”</p><p>His trademark monotonous nonchalance is already fading from his tone. There is real feeling behind his words, real hurt, and for one in a handful of times in their relationship, he’s not even remotely trying to hide it. Jake remains frozen in a stunned, guilty silence.</p><p>“Is that what you want to hear? That my whole life before you was pain, and struggle, and obsession, and <span class="dirk">s</span>elf-loathing, and never letting myself have a single fucking second to rest, from the moment I crashed into the ocean until you came along and taught me how to love and saved me from myself?"</p><p>Dirk pauses, but Jake doesn't say anything, he just stands there, wide-eyed and pale, leaving Dirk no choice but to continue.</p><p>"Well, it’s absolutely fucking tr<span class="dirk">u</span>e, and I don’t think I’ve ever even pretended otherwise. But I really don’t appreciate the reminder of what a complete self-righteous dick I used to be, especially not from you. I don’t need <em>you</em> to remind me of how I spent the first half of my life so up my own ass about sacrifice, suffering, constantly breaking myself down to build myself up stronger and harder, you know, <em><span class="dirk">r</span>eal hero of the universe ultimate grand destiny shit</em>, thinking that love and peace and happiness were nothing but a distraction, a weakness that <em>I</em> couldn't afford.”</p><p>Dirk feels his hands start to shake, but he quickly tightens them into fists before Jake can notice. He looks down, his face is locked in tight resolve, his whole body is tense, as if his muscles are the only thing keeping whatever he’s feeling from exploding out. With tortuous effort, he releases it slowly and quietly instead.</p><p>“You don’t know what it took for me to let that go.”</p><p>The words set a dark cloud over the room, and all they can do is stand there in its heaviness until Dirk breaks the silence again.</p><p>“You truly, could not <span class="dirk">p</span>ossibly have any idea how completely, constantly, excruciatingly aware I am of <em>exactly</em> what I gave up to be here with you now, and of <em>exactly</em> who I could be if I didn’t make that choice. But I did, Jake. I made that choice. I chose <em>you</em>.”</p><p>He’s as close to yelling now as Jake has ever heard. Dirk doesn’t yell.</p><p>“And I continue to choose you, and <em>will</em> continue to choose you, and Lydia, and our <em>humd<span class="dirk">r</span>um</em>, normal goddamn life, every single day for as long as I fucking live. More than choose, Jake, I fight like fucking hell for it, because I <em>still</em> have to, <em>every single day</em>. Because no matter how much therapy I get, no matter how happy I am, no matter how not shitty a father, or husband, or person I somehow manage to be, no matter what <span class="dirk">I</span> do, or what you do, no matter fucking what, there will always, <em>always</em> be a part of me telling me that the other choice is who I <em>really</em> am! That <em>that</em> is what I really de<span class="dirk">s</span>erve, and that you, and Lydia, and <span class="dirk">e</span>veryone else I’ve ever loved would just be <span class="dirk">b</span>etter off without me anyway! And, <em>fucking hell</em>, Jake, if only you knew how completely l<span class="dirk">i</span>terally I mean that! So no, I can never, ever, stop fighting that! I can never, for a single second, let in one sliver of doubt over that choice, and I sure as fuck can’t have <em>you</em> giving me cause to doubt it! Otherwise all of <em>this</em>, it all falls apart and it’s all my fucking fault, just like it always is!”</p><p>He brings a fist down hard on the counter, shaking the soda can and sending a few drops flying out. Jake lets out a quiet involuntary whimper, but remains completely still.</p><p>“So please, <em>please</em>, don’t you ever tell me that you’re forcing me into this, or that I must feel <span class="dirk">t</span>rapped, or that I don’t want this so much more than I ever thought I <span class="dirk">c</span>ould ever want anything in my whole fucking life! Don’t you dare tell me I’d rather be off somewhere in some distant universe living some grand, lonely, miserable, <em>ultimate fucking destiny!</em> Because if that were true, t<span class="dirk">h</span>at is exactly where I would be and that is exactly what I would be doing! <em><span class="dirk">You have no idea how easy that would be for me.</span></em>”</p><p>With a sudden pained groan, he slouches forward, bringing his palm to his forehead as though nursing a particularly strong and persistent migraine pang. He clenches his jaw and squeezes his eyes tightly shut, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth. His other hand grips the lip of the granite countertop so tightly that, against all logic, Jake fears it might actually crack.</p><p>He just stands like that for what feels like an eternity, intensely focused, breathing deeply, fighting...<em>something</em>, with all of his considerable strength. Excruciating seconds pass where Jake can’t do anything but look on in helpless horror at his husband’s private torment. It takes everything in him to finally manage a single word, barely above a whisper.</p><p>“<em>Dirk…?</em>”</p><p>Dirk forces his eyes open, and lifts them just over the border of his shades to meet Jake’s.</p><p>Jake’s eyes are glowing.</p><p>Jake doesn’t realize this, and even in his state, Dirk can tell as much. Jake, not the God, but the man- anxious, fragile, soft- through no fault of his own, is too overcome by the limitations of his very flawed, very human mind to even know what to do with his own body, let alone harness a power like this. But the pure Hope emanating from him now is something else entirely. It’s not limited by what Jake believes he can or can’t do, not constricted by the capabilities of his body or his mind. It’s so much stronger than that, so much bigger. It’s a pure, primal, elemental force of Paradox Space itself manifesting through him as he alone is capable of holding it. And the thing that was big enough, and strong enough, and loud enough to call it out of the universe and focus it here and now was Jake’s hope, against all reason, to protect Dirk. That hope is all he knows in this moment, and it’s enough.</p><p>Dirk looks into the impossible light of Jake’s eyes and tries, against all reason, to let go and let it in. It’s not a warm light, it’s not comforting or safe, it’s the most terrifying thing in this or any universe. It’s danger itself. Chaos incarnate. It’s a raging fire with no pattern to its spread and no end to its reach. But Dirk is not afraid of it. That is what was and always will be his choice, and that’s what sets him apart. That is what protects him. So he faces it, unblinking, unyielding, and let’s it burn away what doesn’t belong.</p><p>Jake doesn’t know this, but he does know that if all he can do is look into Dirk’s eyes and think the words <em>I love you, I'm sorry</em> over and over again, then that’s what he’ll do, for as long as it takes. Forever. But it only takes a few more moments before Dirk finally, slowly, appears to have willed away whatever was troubling him. He blinks first, then he lowers his arm, loosens his grip, stands up straight, and adjusts his shades to fully obscure his eyes once more. When he eventually speaks again after several more endless seconds, his regular monotone returns, with an added layer of utter exhaustion.</p><p>“I am exactly where I want to be with exactly who I want to be with, OK? So please, after everything we’ve come through together, after everything it took for us to get here, at least have enough faith in me to trust that. Please, Jake. Please. I need you.”</p><p>He suddenly turns around and looks up, inhaling sharply through his nose. He really has come a long way and let go of so much over the years, but he won’t cry. He won’t let Him make him cry. He won’t let Jake see him cry.</p><p>But the fact that he’s close is what finally jolts Jake back to his senses.</p><p>“Dirk...I…”</p><p>Dirk takes another deep breath, and slowly turns halfway back around, pressing his lower back into the countertop.</p><p>“It’s fine.”</p><p>“<em>No!</em> No, it’s not fine! I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I didn’t…”</p><p>“Do you love me?”</p><p>The question hits him like a kick in the chest. It’s been so long since either of them has asked each other that, and it hurts all the more for it. It triggers a flashback of the worst parts of the past twenty years in Jake’s mind in a single instant- all the times one or both of them didn’t know the answer, or couldn’t let themselves believe it, or it just wasn’t enough. He knows he can’t succumb to it though, he can’t delay his answer by a single second, lest it come across as doubt. So he pushes it out, tearing past all the internal obstacles, with everything left in him.</p><p>“Yes! I love you, Dirk! Of course I love you...”</p><p>“Do you believe that I love you?”</p><p>“<em>Yes!</em>”</p><p>“Then it’s fine.”</p><p>It’s not fine, but Jake accepts that, for tonight, at least, it’s enough. There is a fine line between denial and self-preservation, between bottling up and pacing yourself, and he’s already pushed Dirk too far beyond that line tonight. They have the rest of their lives to keep unraveling this tapestry of trauma that is their past. Pull too hard all at once and the thread might snap, and then the work becomes that much harder.</p><p>“OK.”</p><p>Without looking up, Dirk reaches a hand out in Jake’s direction, which he eagerly takes with both of his. Jake lets the silence be, but he keeps a close eye on his husband, ready and willing to do whatever he needs at a moment’s notice. Dirk is still looking away. He breathes intentionally, counting as he inhales, holds, and exhales. Then, when he's ready, he takes the conversation back to a place that was comfortable.</p><p>“I know Lydia is like me in a lot of ways, but you underestimate how much of you is in her, too. She’s funny, Jake. And she’s friendly, and kind. She doesn’t get that from me. Though you always did have a blind spot when it comes to self-awareness. And that is exactly why you are so fucking lucky to have me around, to know you better than you know yourself."</p><p>Dirk lifts their bundle of hands and kisses Jake’s, shooting a teasing smile his way as he does- as if nothing at all had happened, or rather, as if trying desperately to forget that anything had. But Jake’s not so easily convinced. He wants so badly to freeze this moment, for more time to try to accept that they're OK, more proof that he didn’t actually ruin everything. But Dirk lowers their hands and gently wiggles his free because he has more he needs to say, and what Dirk needs is more important right now.</p><p>"So... yes, OK, I can agree to your point about holding back on some of the more gruesome details of our childhood trauma for the bedtime stories. Believe it or not, I, too, would prefer for Lydia to be happy and well-adjusted, and even if I can't seem to stop myself from talking about it sometimes due to my own particular brand of fucked-uped-ness, I sure as hell never want her to have to worry about any of the shit that we went through. Not even anything close.”</p><p>He sighs.</p><p>“Sometimes I just… don’t know what I’m doing. I just do something, or say something, before I even remember to decide first if it’s what’s best for her. And then when I realize that, I just automatically try to retroactively justify that it somehow was. You know, I used to never not know exactly what I was doing at exactly all times, but I guess I've gone soft in my old age and let myself occasionally slip up and just…live. And I entirely blame you for that, I hope you know."</p><p>He looks to Jake for a reaction to what they both know was a compliment, despite its framing as an accusation, so Jake forces a little smile of thanks. Dirk continues.</p><p>"But, God, she’s just so smart and so fucking <em>cool</em>, it’s really hard to spend any time with her and not just feel like I’m hanging out with a friend. Maybe cause I learned too late what hanging out with a friend is supposed to feel like, and, I mean I obviously never learned what hanging out with a parent is supposed to feel like. All I really know is that I just want more than anything for her to like me, and I get so wrapped up in that that I forget that I’m supposed to be raising this person, you know? So, yeah, after a lifetime of overthinking every fucking thing I’ve ever done in excrutiating detail, you had to go and talk me into doing the best and most important thing of all, and five years later I’m still fucking winging it.”</p><p>Jake can’t help but crack a real smile at that.</p><p>“She is pretty cool, isn’t she?”</p><p>“She’s fucking awesome! I know saying that probably makes us pretty uncool, but fuck it, I guess that ship has sailed. I’m just... I’m not as good at this as you. I know that, and it's fine, I have long since come to accept it. And that's why I'm so fucking lucky to have you around, so that at least one iteration of myself might churn out an offspring that's not completely psychologically scarred for life. That, and your hot little gay mustache."</p><p>Jake tries to speak up to ease his husband's self-doubt, but before he can get a word out, Dirk’s hands are clasped around his face and his tongue is halfway down his throat. He decides to let it be for the time being. Dirk tends to win, or at least end, a lot of arguments this way, which Jake doesn't really particularly mind most of the time, and this time, he knows that now, this is exactly what Dirk needs. He puts his arms around Dirk’s waist to show his appreciation, but remains mostly still, allowing Dirk total control, placing his full trust in him, wherever he decides to take this next. But it only takes a few more seconds for Dirk to get it out of his system, or to ensure his husband’s complete placation, or both, before he prys their faces back apart and continues.</p><p>"So OK, maybe I'll wait til she's eight to tell her about the Trickster incident…"</p><p>"<em>Thirteen!</em>"</p><p>"Ten."</p><p>"Eleven. And a half."</p><p>"Fine."</p><p>They kiss again, just quickly at first to seal the peace, but then, realizing that the discussion is finally finished, allow themselves to linger a moment longer, not because they need to, just because they want to. This time, it’s Jake who eventually breaks free, instead burying his face in Dirk’s neck and pulling him in even closer just to hold. He still hasn’t let go of his guilt over what he put Dirk through just moments ago- no, that will be a long time coming. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to forgive himself for making him suffer like that, especially knowing that it was all his fault. Especially not knowing it was he who saved him, then, and always. He just knows there’s nothing he can say, and that anything he could manage to say would just be for himself and not for Dirk. But what he can do is just love him, in the purest form he knows how. No ulterior motives, no games, no irony, just love. And Dirk gratefully accepts.</p><p>“You know,” Dirk eventually whispers, “if you miss babies so much, we could always have another one.”</p><p>He knows he meant it, but realizes after the fact that he hadn’t yet committed to the decision of just how sincerely to convey it. But he’s happy to wait and see how Jake responds and retroactively decide from there- that’s always the safest way around these things anyway. Jake groans painfully and squirms free.</p><p>“Oh, come now! You know it’s not fair for you to say that to me while I’m in such a sorry state! And I’m not so sure you’re quite in a place to be making any life-altering decisions right now either, buster…”</p><p>Jake takes another sip of his beer to try to regain some semblance of manliness. Dirk decides he meant it, because Jake needs him to have meant it.</p><p>“It’s not like I haven’t been thinking about it. You’re not as subtle as you think, Papa, with your home movies, and your scrapbooks, and your staunch refusal to get rid of any of Lydia’s baby stuff. So why not now?”</p><p>“Dirk, we cannot go out and get a baby every few years for the rest of our lives just because I have a tendency to get a bit nostalgic and weepy from time to time!”</p><p>"I mean, technically, we could...” Dirk mumbles into his soda can.</p><p>“All right, wise guy, we can talk about this in the morning. That is, if you don’t decide you were just being ironic by then. I’m going to bed, are you coming?”</p><p>“Yes. And I’m always being ironic, it’s just a question of how many layers of irony I’m currently working with and whether it ends up circling back to authenticity, and that’s for me to know, and you to spend the rest of your life trying, and failing, to find out...”</p><p>*******</p><p>“<em>Fathers!</em>”</p><p>Lydia stands silhouetted against the hallway light, having violently thrown open the door to her dads’ bedroom. Dirk seems unphased, having already been sitting up on his phone, but Jake startles awake and immediately engages emergency dad-mode.</p><p>“Hi sweetie, what’s the matter? Did you have a bad dream? Did you, er, have an accident?”</p><p>“<em>Ewwww</em>, Papa, gross! What am I, <em>four?</em>”</p><p>“Yeah Papa, have some respect, Christ.”</p><p>“Oh, of course, my sincerest apologies, I don't know what I was thinking...”</p><p>Lydia takes off running and leaps into the air a few feet shy of the bed. Dirk, his decidedly different version of dad-mode now activated, catches her, and plops her down between them. Jake turns on his lamp.</p><p>“I tried and tried but I simply could not sleep! Because I simply <em>have to know</em> what happens next in the story!”</p><p>Dirk scratches his neck uncomfortably. He sure was hoping at least for a little more time before having to have this particular conversation. He had hoped, in this case, to actually prepare for once. But Lydia’s always been ahead of schedule on just about everything, so why should this be any different? So he wings it.</p><p>“Yeah, so...about that...I think we’re actually gonna put a lid on that one for the time being, let the suspense build a bit more. Why don’t you go grab one of your books?”</p><p>Lydia looks downright appalled at the unexpected denial. Dirk tries to convey firmness in his expression, but without his shades, both his husband and his daughter can clearly see his confidence wavering.</p><p>“<em>But Daddy…</em>” Lydia whines as pathetically as she can. It’s not clear how much of her reaction is genuine and how much is a calculated twist of the finger that she knows full well she already has her Daddy wrapped so tightly around, but the effect is the same nonetheless. Poor Dirk looks just about ready to crumble into a million pieces, but he perseveres.</p><p>“Lydia, what did I say?”</p><p>Hearing those words from Dirk for, he believes, the very first time, words that he himself employs so frequently, should make Jake proud, but he finds instead that it just breaks his heart. The two people he loves more than life itself, the smartest, toughest, bravest people he's ever known, whose greatest joy in life is the bond they could only ever share with each other, are sad, all because he couldn’t handle their bedtime story. Because he got scared and lost his faith in them both. Because he was jealous. Because…he finally admits to himself, <em>he</em> didn't want to hear it.</p><p>The ghost of Dirk’s voice echoes in his head.</p><p>
  <em>They’re just words. They can’t hurt her… It’s part of her story…She’s tough…</em>
</p><p>His resolve is already just holding on by the last delicate threads of fear and stubbornness, and then…</p><p>
  <em>I want more than anything for her to like me…I’m not as good at this as you.</em>
</p><p>They snap.</p><p>He sighs.</p><p>“No, no, it’s OK, Dirk. She wants to hear the story, tell her the story.”</p><p>Dirk meets Jake’s eyes, silently asking for confirmation, which Jake silently gives.</p><p>“<em>Yaaaaaaaaayyyyyyy!</em>”</p><p>“But, maybe, just…”</p><p>Jake gives Dirk a now sterner look and makes a <em>tone it down</em> gesture behind Lydia's back.</p><p>“Yeah, got it. OK kid, where were we?”</p><p>“Papa kissed your severed head!”</p><p>Jake winces. Dirk reaches behind their daughter to take his hand and give a comforting squeeze.</p><p>“Right. OK, so, yes, Papa kissed my head, but it was all OK actually, because that was, uh... a <em>fake</em> Daddy…”</p><p>He glances up and Jake again for reassurance. Jake makes sure to take a moment to fully appreciate the adorable, lost look on his husband’s face for the very rare treat it is, and then nods his approval.</p><p>“...yeah. But because he kissed fake Daddy's head, the real Daddy woke up, because, uh... <em>magic</em>…”</p><p>“<em>Magic?</em> Really, Daddy? Don’t patronize me, I know magic is fake as shit!”</p><p>“<em>Lydia!</em>”</p><p>Dirk just laughs.</p><p>“Ha! OK, fair, but since it’s way past your bedtime I’m gonna go ahead and gloss over the fine details of the actual narrative metaphysics involved for now…”</p><p>Dirk pauses, and a mischievous smirk forms on his face.</p><p>“Hey, Lydia, what would you say to the idea of having a sibling?”</p><p>“Oh my God, <em>really Dirk?!</em>”</p><p>Jake firmly plants his face in his free hand. This is his punishment for everything earlier, he should have known. Though in all fairness, he tells himself, there’s nothing Dirk could have done that wouldn’t be letting him off easy, and despite not being his preference for how to broach this particular conversation, he supposes, it could be a lot worse.</p><p>“Ummmm, <em>maybe</em>. Can I pick the name?”</p><p>“Depends, what are you thinking?”</p><p>“Ummmmmmm...<em>Broccoli!</em>”</p><p>Lydia proceeds to crack up uncontrollably at what was obviously the funniest joke that has ever been made in the history of Paradox Space. Dirk chuckles.</p><p>“Broccoli English-Strider. Yes, I love it. Sold.”</p><p>Jake feels himself losing the battle with the smile encroaching on his own face, so he plans a hasty retreat instead.</p><p>“All right you turkeys! I’m going back to sleep. We can discuss this as a family tomorrow when we’re not all in such silly moods. Goodnight my loves!”</p><p>He squeezes Dirk’s hand and kisses Lydia’s head before turning off his lamp and flopping back around.</p><p>“Goodnight… <em>Broccoli!</em>”</p><p>“Haha! Yes! Sick burn, Lyds, you absolutely annihilated him!”</p><p>Jake hears the very familiar sound of a tiny hand high fiving a big one over the rekindled uncontrollable laughter. Now he lets the smile win.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>HUGE thank you for all of the many other writers and artists involved in this big bang and @romulusinvictus (the Dirk to my Jake &lt;3) for your advice, encouragement, and inspiration! And an especially huge thank you to @anxiousadvent for all of the above and for the BEAUTIFUL illustration for this fic!</p></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
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        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28722852">Bedtime Story Illustration</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnxiousAdvent/pseuds/AnxiousAdvent">AnxiousAdvent</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
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